time makes bolder, even children get older
by rhibros
Summary: In which Stan Marsh learns about change and why you can never outrun it. (In-progress. Rating and genres may change as the story takes form. Contains Stendy, Kyman, Creek, Bunny, Clybe, and unrequited Style. See author's notes for more details. Unbeta'd.)
1. Prologue

**A/N:** **Wow, it's been awhile since I've written literally anything. I actually had to make a new account to post this. Anyway, I'm testing out the waters here on FFN before possibly moving this work to AO3. I'm going to do my best to shoot for weekly updates, but I can't promise anything. Criticism and suggestions are welcome and appreciated, and any upvotes or positive feedback will be internalized and used for self-validation by me.**

 **Warning: This work will eventually contain mentions and minor depictions of drug and alcohol abuse, anorexia, self-harm, and other unsavory and potentially triggering behaviors. I'll do my best to put warnings at the beginning of such chapters that do, but if that kind of thing puts you off, your best bet is to click off now.**

 **Disclaimer: All characters and events in this fanfic - even those based on real people - are entirely fictional, and don't belong to the author. All characters' personas are interpreted by one fan of the show...poorly. The following story contains coarse language and due to its content it should not be read by anyone.**

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 _The sun was rising over the little town of South Park, nestled away in the mountains of Colorado. Stan Marsh, freshly fourteen, sat at the desk of his super best friend, Kyle Broflovski. It was a quiet Sunday morning in July, halfway through summer vacation. There was never much to do in South Park in the summer, so the two boys often ended up eating garbage and playing video games into the wee hours of the night._

 _Now, it was what Stan considered the wee hours of the morning - 6:30am - and he was sitting up at Kyle's desk, watching his friend sleep and holding an opened envelope in his hand. He was almost never awake before Kyle, usually preferring to sleep into the afternoon while Kyle got up and meandered about the house; however, this was special circumstance. He needed to talk to Kyle about this - he needed Kyle's opinion, or his blessing, or something - bags under his eyes be damned. Kyle's two cents mattered._

 _Stan's fingers played along the ripped and frayed edges of the paper as he watched Kyle sleep, trying to keep his brain from wandering any farther into the uncharted territory of his and Kyle's relationship. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop himself from wondering what would become of them should he really take this opportunity - or acknowledging that his unsavory feelings for Kyle were part of the reason he wanted to._

 _He was roused from his thoughts when he saw the redhead stir, watching him reach out to what was usually Stan's side of the bed and recoil when he found nothing. Kyle sat up slowly, rubbing the grain out of his eyes and looking around, eyebrows raising when he saw Stan fully conscious._

" _Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?" Kyle remarked, though half of it had come out as a yawn. He finished sitting up and swung his legs around to sit on the edge of his bed, toes barely hitting the floor. When he received no response, he gave Stan the eye._

" _What is that?" he asked, pointing to the opened envelope in Stan's hand. Stan sighed, gripping the object with unnecessary nervous force._

" _It's...a letter," Stan replied, then winced at the deadpan look the other gave him._

" _Yeah, no shit. What's it say?"_

" _It's...it's an invitation, to this study abroad trip. It's Wendy's, but she's able to invite someone else, and she wants me to go. My parents have already practically drained their savings for me, but..." He stopped and handed the envelope over to Kyle, who opened and scanned the contents._

" _Dude, but nothing, this is awesome! A whole year in Europe? Do you know what I would give to be able to take this kind of trip?"_

" _Yeah, probably an arm and a leg." Stan grinned at the good reception before speaking again. "Do you really think I should go? I mean, with everything that's going on here..."_

" _Stan," Kyle said quietly, placing a hand on Stan's arm. "I'll be fine - so will Kenny, and so will your parents and your sister, even if it doesn't seem like it right now. I really think you should go. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and if you want my honest opinion, I think it would do you some good to get out of South Park. You've gotta spread your wings sometime."_

" _Yeah, I guess you're right. Thanks, dude. I needed to hear some logic."_

" _No problem. Now, since you're awake, get your ass up and come help me make breakfast."_

 _It was roughly six weeks later when Stan and Wendy boarded an international aircraft together at Denver Airport, tucking their carry-on bags into the overhead bin and buckling their seats for the ridiculously long flight into Spain. Wendy was giddy, holding onto Stan's arm and talking his ear off, but Stan was calm, looking out the plane window in the direction that South Park lied. He had a bad feeling building up in his gut, but he forced it down, reminding himself of Kyle's promise. Everything will be fine._

 _Wendy, sensing his anxiety, pulled him down so she could press a kiss to his cheek. He smiled and apologized for zoning out, then settled back into the chair of the airplane, falling asleep to the seat belt light's gentle ding, ding, ding..._

...ding, ding, ding.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking - we are now preparing to land in beautiful Denver, Colorado. It's about 67 degrees Fahrenheit, and skies are partly cloudy with chances of..."

Stan tuned out the intercom as the turbulence of landing jostled him awake. He wanted to stretch his arms up but the little plane didn't have much room to do so, so instead he took the neck pillow out from behind him and cracked his neck. He yawned and looked beside him at Wendy, who was still out against her own doughnut-shaped pillow.

The landing was a little bumpy but not the worst that Stan had ever been through, and he sighed when they finally reached the ground. Wendy opened her eyes as the wheels of the plane hit the runway, sitting up in time to be pressed against her seat by the force of the slowing aircraft. Stan watched the airport fly by through the window until the plane slowly came to a stop at the gate.

"Do you think you're ready?" Wendy suddenly asked him, and Stan jumped when he heard her voice. She set a hand on his arm.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, looking back out the window in the direction that South Park lied. As the stewardess came around to collect garbage and open overhead bins, Stan just stared out the window, preparing himself to return to the home that he'd up and left...

...fourteen years ago.


	2. Chapter 1

The sun had risen once again over the little town of South Park, nestled away in the mountains of Colorado. It was a quiet Sunday morning in the middle of May, when the snow was just beginning to melt and the grass was just beginning to grow back. Stan Marsh sat in the driver's seat of his rental car, confidently driving down a mountain road that Wendy insisted was incorrect.

"I have the map right in front of me," she said, "and I'm telling you, we're going the wrong way."

"And I'm telling you, I know where to go," Stan retorted. "I lived here for the first fourteen and a half years of my life."

"Yeah? Did you? Well it's also been nearly fourteen years since you were last here. Not to mention, your sense of direction is completely -"

"Accurate?" Stan interrupted, pointing out the little wooden sign signifying the beginning of the boundaries of South Park. It was wet from the melting snow and new letters were freshly painted over the old and faded ones, but it still looked just as it always had. Wendy harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest.

The road twisted and curved just the way Stan remembered it to until it finally spat them out between a few trees into the quiet mountain town of South Park. The car slowly rolled to a stop at the entrance while Stan read a second sign. It was updated - what used to be a dinky board nailed to a post was now a proper welcome sign, painted red and brown. Wendy nudged Stan to keep driving and he snapped out of it, gently easing the car into motion again.

The road brought them into South Park from the east; Stark's Pond rolled up on their left, the ice on the top cracked and melted. They drove past the new South Park Elementary and Intermediate, the old police station, and City Hall. Stan decided on taking the long way, looping through downtown to see all the old businesses. Wendy didn't say anything, letting him take in the town they'd up and left so many years ago. To Stan, South Park looked just the way he'd left it - even most of the storefronts were intact, though some were closed for renovations. The only things that seemed to change were the people.

Stan and Wendy's extended drive eventually took them around the loop through residential South Park, where Stan let his memory guide him to the driveway of the house he grew up in. He pulled in confidently, remembering from the first time his dad let him park the car that the edge of the garage was closer than it looked. Wendy sighed and unbuckled, groaning as she pulled herself out of the car.

"God, I'm glad to be out of there," she remarked, leaning forward to stretch her lower back before padding over to the hatchback and waiting for Stan to open it. "We couldn't have gotten anything a little bigger?"

"We could have, actually," Stan answered, and hit the trunk button inside of the front door, "but someone didn't want to spend the money. In fact, I remember you being particularly unhappy about the money we spent renting a hatchback in the first place."

Wendy grumbled instead of answering, proved wrong for the second time in a short span, and pulled her bags for the week out of the back of the car and up to the front of the house. She knocked on the door without waiting for Stan, and after a few minutes and some scuffling, Sharon opened up with a warm smile. She hadn't aged well - her divorce coupled with the distance of her children made her appear beyond her years - but her eyes were still kind, and her voice was soft when she spoke to invite Wendy in. Stan followed a few minutes after, plopping his bags down inside the door to give his mother a hug. Between his growing and her shrinking, he was nearly a foot taller than her, but her hugs were still soft and inviting. A soft meow broke them apart and Stan looked down to where Wendy was kneeling, petting a tabby cat.

"Really, ma? A cat?" Stan asked, pulling away from his mother and smiling. She batted his shoulder.

"Yes, Stanley, a cat. Her name is Whiskers. Are you really judging me for having a little company around after my whole family uproots without me?" The comment wasn't meant to sting, but it kind of did, and Stan winced. Sharon's face softened when she realized her mistake, and she reached a hand out to touch her son's arm.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get unpacked," she suggested. "Settle in and then we can talk."

Stan nodded and gave his mother one more hug. Then, with the help of his girlfriend and his memory, he hauled his bags upstairs and to his childhood bedroom. Even the door looked no different than the day he'd left it, and as he walked inside he realized that the room was untouched. He dumped his things just inside the entrance and stepped into what felt like a portal to another time. Wendy watched him look around, making her way to sit down on his bed. It was strange for her too, and she contemplated as Stan took his time moving around the room and digging into old keepsakes - pictures, toys, and even bits and pieces of the heavy costumes he wore during his roleplaying days. Suddenly, he turned to her with a little wooden sword in hand, a half-smile kind of hanging on his face.

"Holy shit, remember this?" he asked, holding up the poorly-made construct. It was just two pieces of plywood cut into the vague shape of a sword and tied together with string. Wendy saw it and laughed.

"No, I don't," she replied. "I never played that silly stick game with you guys. I was too busy painting my nails and playing an online trivia game that promised to give rice to hungry children if you guessed the answers right." Stan snickered, a genuine sound, and opened his mouth to say something in reply, then slowly closed it. His face softened as he studied the relic of his childhood.

"It was the most fun I think I've ever had," he said suddenly, and the way he said it made Wendy frown.

"Stan," she began, "if this makes you uncomfortable, we can stay in a hotel -"

"No, no, it's fine," Stan interrupted, gently placing the toy back into the box he'd found it in. "I had to come back and face the music sometime. Besides, how much could our quiet little mountain town have really changed?" Wendy clicked her tongue.

"A lot. You know you can't pretend that everything is going to be the same as it was when we were fourteen." Stan furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know," he said curtly, and Wendy was about to start an argument with him when Sharon called for the two from downstairs.

"We're finishing this," Wendy sighed, hauling herself up from the bed and pushing past Stan out the door. He sighed as he followed her, wishing they could just go one week without some stupid argument over nothing. Sharon greeted them downstairs.

"All settled in?" she asked from the couch, her cat purring as it slalomed between her ankles. Stan nodded. He was about to ask her what she needed when she spoke again.

"Now," she began, "I know my son, and I know he was just up there rifling through his closet so he could look at his old mementos." Stan paled just a little, wondering when he became so predictable. Sharon smiled. "I just thought that he might want to go see some of his real friends instead of moping around remembering them."

"My old friends are still in South Park?" Stan asked in reply, face changing to one of genuine surprise. Even Wendy looked a little shocked.

"It is a reunion after all," Sharon answered, "but some just plain stayed, too. The youngest McCormick boy works at the new mechanic on the edge of town. I just had my car repaired there a few weeks ago. That's as good a place as any to start reconciling, don't you think?"

"What about Kyle?"

The question came out of Stan's mouth before he could stop it, and he immediately felt a little flush. It had been fourteen years, and Kyle had been his best friend of all time, so the question was totally justified and everything, but Stan still felt a little embarrassed that Kyle was the instant option in his mind. Sharon shook her head.

"His whole family up and left town in different directions after he graduated," she recounted, much to Stan's chagrin. "But, I think some of your old friends still keep in touch."

Stan was, truthfully, halfway done with putting his shoes on before the name "McCormick" was even out of his mother's mouth, but now he was almost itching to get out the door. The chance of seeing Kyle again made him incredibly nervous, but he had to come back sometime. There hadn't been a night in fourteen years that he hadn't sat at the kitchen table in his New York apartment, planning out his apology. He didn't expect to take so long to come home, but on the bright side, he had one hell of a speech concocted in his head. He looked at Wendy, his eyes begging her to get ready to leave or let him go without her. She gave him a look between knowing and warning.

"Go ahead," she finally said, turning away from him with a bored frown draped lazily on her mouth. "I'm going to see if I can find Bebe Stevens in your mom's phonebook." Stan quickly kissed the side of her head and muttered a "thank you" before practically bursting out the door and running to the car. He wasn't sure why he was so gung-ho - he knew better than to expect his old friends to want to talk to him, or even to remember him. He knew better than to expect that they hadn't changed or matured at all. Yet, as he turned the key in the ignition and felt the uncomfortable hatchback roar to life underneath him, something told him that of all people to come back to, Kenny McCormick wouldn't turn him down.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: "Weekly updates," said I, Boo Boo the Fool, completely under my own spell of bullshittery. "Weekly updates for sure."**

 **Anyway, I know it's been a minute, but I'm back with some more garbage. Sorry for the year-long wait. I'll try not to let that happen again.**

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Kenneth McCormick was just about sick and tired of spending every day of his impecunious life underneath other peoples' metal death machines. It was bad enough spending his entire childhood covered in dirt and grime - now he was spending his adult life covered in dirt and grime, and he didn't even have the cash to show for it. Instead, he had arthritis.

It was just another ordinary day that he was under one of these aforementioned execution capsules when he heard something he never thought he'd hear - some urgency in Craig Tucker's voice.

"Holy shit, Ken, you have to come see this."

That was enough to have him sliding out from under a Mr. Tanner's ugly Veloster and climbing to his feet with a groan, scratchy blue jumpsuit irritating his skin as he twisted in it. He tossed his wrench back into his toolbox and wiped the sweat off of his brow with a gloved hand before taking the few strides from the repair shop to the front of the house. The conjoining door opened a few moments later to reveal Kenny pressing his back against the glass, removing his gloves and pulling down the dust mask on his face. When he finally turned far enough to take in the sights of the front of house, his eyebrows shot up and a grin split his face.

"Stanley Marsh, you bastard!"

Stan was standing just inside the front door in a rather pretentious-looking sweater vest and pair of khakis, obviously tense. He had stiffened when Kenny first entered, but once he realised he was being welcomed, the tension left his shoulders and he reached a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Hey, Kenny," he started, feeling small next to the two ogres of men but fueled by Kenny's full-face grin. "I'm glad you were here. I was worried I'd have to spend my whole Saturday with Craig." Kenny snorted, and Craig shot Stan a look, irritated but too invested in his magazine to actively seek out a fight.

"Hey," Kenny replied, "Craig's alright. You just don't know him like I do." He winked, and Craig grunted. "Anyway, you're not here to talk about Craig, I'm sure. Where the hell have you been, man?"

He moved forward with outstretched arms to initiate a hug, but Stan eyed the soot and oil on his clothes and took a nervous step back. Kenny's face softened, somewhere between hurt and understanding, and Stan made an apologetic face.

"Sorry, it's... suede," he offered, though he knew Kenny would peg it as a lame excuse.

"That's a lame-ass reason to not hug your old friend Kenny and you know it," Kenny quipped, "but I guess I can let it slide in exchange for your life story." Stan snorted, sticking his hands in his pockets and shrugging.

"Well," he began, "Wendy and I arrived in Madrid around 9am their time and the study abroad program people met us fresh out of the gate at the airport. They picked us up and that's where Wendy likes to say the rest of our lives began." He snorts and rolls his eyes. "Really, what happened is they crammed us into a motel until the dorms at the high school opened and we could move in." Kenny listened intently, nodding along to Stan's story.

"We spent the year going to school and living just outside of Madrid," Stan continued. "Then when the year was up, they offered to continue our stay, and what started as a year in Spain turned into a four-year immersive tour. Rome, Berlin, London - we went to school during the academic year and stayed at hostels in the summer."

"Wow, lucky you," Kenny commented, and Stan couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. "Though, if I recall, it's been almost fifteen years since I've seen your sorry ass, so I'll restate my question - where the hell have you been?"

"Well, we were both offered big scholarships, so we came home and went straight into college," Stan explained. "Wendy studied politics and sociology at Harvard, and I went to MIT for business analytics. I'm still a student of their graduate program, actually - I'll finish my Ph.D. this spring. We're working on creating a nonprofit in New York City."

"So, you went and saw the world and just never came home, huh?" Kenny asked. Stan flushed just slightly pink and shrugged.

"I suppose. It was just one good opportunity after another, and... I guess the time just got away from me."

"Don't worry, Stan, I'm not judging you. Not that much, anyway. Just chalk it up to jealousy - you and Wendy got to climb Mt. Olympus and suck Zeus' dick, and I'm still covered in dirt."

Stan smiled apologetically and Kenny shook his head, stuffing his gloves into his pocket. Craig stood for a moment, drawing their attention, but wound up just shifting in his chair and waving them back to their conversation. Kenny leaned against the counter as he spoke.

"So, riddle me this, Dr. Marsh -"

"I'm not a doctor yet, Ken."

"Fine, whatever. _Almost_ Dr. Marsh: what brings you back to paradise? I distinctly remember scouring Facebook for you and coming up with jack shit." Stan shifted his weight uncomfortably from one heel to the other.

"I, uh - I found out through a friend of a friend of a friend," he responded, the embarrassment clear on his face. "I know I didn't get a formal invitation, but we're not exactly strapped for cash at the moment, so I figured the worst you guys could do is tell me to get lost." Kenny narrowed his eyes, but the upturned corners of his lips betrayed him.

"I'd never turn you down, Stanley," he joked, "broken heart or not." Stan visibly relaxed again, finally donning a genuine smile. He couldn't help his predictability, though, so it didn't last long.

"So... who else is in town?" he started, and Kenny rolled his eyes knowingly.

"What, are Craig and I not enough?"

Craig grunted from where he sat and audibly adjusted his magazine, and Stan rolled his eyes and let out a sarcastic "ha, ha."

"Just kidding," Kenny continued. "I can still read your face, and no, Kyle isn't in town. He probably won't make it out here until tomorrow." Stan glanced to the side nervously and opened his mouth to continue their conversation, but Kenny cut him off, suddenly very interested in the hems of his work gloves. "Anyway, I should probably get back to Mr. Tanner's Veloster before it falls apart. Is Wendy in town with you?"

"Yes," Stan answered, a little put off but determined to stay in Kenny's good graces. "We're staying with my mom."

"Why don't you bring her out to Tweak Bros in a few hours? I get off at 6 and I'd love to hear more about your European escapades."

Stan nodded and Kenny winked, pulling the paper mask back up over his face and striding back to the shop door. Then he was gone again, leaving Stan alone in the waiting room with Craig and his music zine. Stan tugged the hem of his sweater vest down and started to turn, headed for the door, but Craig cleared his throat and closed his magazine, marking his page with a thumb.

"I never liked you, Stan," he started, the same ever-bored expression present on his face, and Stan turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. "I always thought you were pretty self-centered. And arrogant. And kind of an asshole -"

"Your point?" Stan countered, offended. Craig sighed and crossed his legs.

"My point," he continued, "as much as it pains me, is that I'm around if you need somebody sane to process things with." Stan raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic offer, but he didn't get a chance to respond before Craig pressed on. "I'm just saying that a lot has happened since you walked out, and you're not as entrenched in peoples' good graces as you think you are. The fact that I never gave a shit about where you went or what you did is an advantage, that's all."

"Uh, thanks," Stan replied. He waited for Craig to go on, but the beanstalk of a man just leaned back in his chair and picked his magazine back up without another word.

With that, Stan left, mulling over Kenny's evasiveness and Craig's affirmation the whole way home. When he finally returned, he found his mother in the kitchen and Wendy gabbing loudly from the couch. He kicked his shoes off before falling onto the couch next to her, answering Sharon's inquiry about the quality of his visit with a curt "it was fine." Sharon made a noise to express that she'd heard him and he sighed. One hand found the remote and the TV lit up, lagging captions sliding across the bottom of the silent screen. He needed to tell Wendy about their new plans, but there was no knowing when she'd finish having it out on the phone. He settled for placing a hand on her thigh to alert her that he had news for when she was finished, then went back to his silent contemplation.

 _You're not as entrenched in peoples' good graces as you think you are._

What the hell was that supposed to mean?


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: A couple months. Not a year. Try to enjoy it - it's a labor of love.**

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Tweek Bros coffee shop looked objectively better than it had when Stan was in the eighth grade. They'd renovated and expanded the building, adding to the lobby so it wrapped around the service counter and installing big windows. From where Stan and Wendy stood outside the front door, it almost looked like a respectable business. Stan probably could have stood there and looked at it all day if Wendy hadn't dragged him inside.

"W-welcome to Tweek Bros Coffee!"

The voice came before the face, but there was something specific in the stutter that told Stan exactly who it was behind that counter before the frizzy hair or burlap apron even appeared - Tweek Tweak.

"What can I - Stan?!"

Hearing his name snapped Stan from his visual once-around of the building, but by the time he looked up, Tweek was already gone. He cocked an eyebrow at Wendy, who responded with a matching expression, and they made their way up to the counter together. Wendy called out softly to Tweek, and Stan went the route of pressing the small bell on the coffee counter, but there was still a short pause before anyone came out, and who did appear surely wasn't Tweek. It was a girl. She was short, blonde, and had a cutesy but confident air about her.

"Well, heya! Sorry about that wait. What can I do ya for, strangers?" she said, though she had a mischievous look on her face as if she knew something that Stan and Wendy didn't. "We've got a nice hot mocha that's really in-season right now."

"Um, actually, do you carry any floral teas? We don't drink coffee," Wendy replied, cutting off Stan as he opened his mouth to inquire about Tweek. The girl raised her eyebrows and proceeded to cross her arms, stand on her toes, and plant her top half against the coffee counter. Something about her felt familiar to Stan, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Now what d'ya mean you don't drink coffee? What else would ya come into a coffee shop for?"

"We don't really do caffeine, and we're just meeting friends," Wendy replied when Stan fell short of a response. "Really, we'll just take the tea. Two regular cups. Anything floral, as long as it's black." The girl gave a little huff in response, but her smile didn't disappear as she prepared the cups, took Stan's money, and gave the couple a wait time. By the time she began to pour the tea, Wendy had to drag Stan to a table. He could hear Wendy talking to him, but he was fixated on this girl. He could have sworn that he'd known her before.

It wasn't until she was halfway to their table with two hot cups of tea that he understood why.

"Here ya go, strangers! Two hot cups of -" the girl began, but she was suddenly interrupted.

"Hey, Leo!"

It was Kenny's voice at the door, and as soon as Stan heard it, a rush of memories came back to him. He flipped through a dozen or more instances that Kenny called a very specific blond Leo.

"Butters?!"

The whole coffee shop stopped and stared at Stan's outburst, his wide eyes and hands white-knuckling the table. Then there was a snort from Craig, who'd followed Kenny inside, and a soft discomfort rippling off the girl as she finished walking their teas up.

"Actually, it's Marjorine now," the girl replied, and Stan's heart stopped beating in his chest. "Or Leona, 'cause Ken likes to call me Leo." Kenny smiled and waved on his route from the coffee shop doors to Stan's table, and Marjorine set their teas down. Then, she let a short sigh leave her and straightened up, smiling softly.

"It's okay that you didn't know, Stan," she said, her smile genuine. "You weren't here when I transitioned. Just... please don't call me that name anymore, okay?" Stan could only nod, still in shock that But... Marjorine was a woman, with wide hips and a prominent chest and everything. Wendy seemed startled, but in truth wasn't anywhere near as shocked as Stan about the revelation. By then, Craig and Kenny were settling themselves down in the other chairs at Stan and Wendy's table, and Marjorine made a comment about locking up for dinner and fetching Tweek.

"Really, don't worry about it, Stan," Kenny said, suddenly ripping Stan the rest of the way back into reality. "She just gets upset cause that old name holds a lot of negativity for her. She understands that you didn't know."

"How could you not?" Wendy replied, not giving Stan the chance to speak. "I mean, don't get me wrong - I was startled, but I knew he was different from the beginning."

"She," Craig corrected stoically, and Wendy flushed just slightly. Stan shook his head and sat back up in his chair, taking a small sip of his tea. An awkward silence hung in the air for just a few moments.

"So, Wendy," Kenny started, relieving the room of quiet, "I've heard Stan's version of events. How about you? Any good stories?" Wendy smiled, and began to talk. She rehashed a lot of what Stan had said, adding in girly details like places they'd had dinner and different languages' words for "bread". Stan lost himself in the conversation, matching only Craig for his feigned indifference. Then, halfway through one of Wendy's stories about a German café, Craig suddenly left Stan in first place for indifference because he looked up and smiled.

Stan followed Craig's gaze behind them to Marjorine leading a very stiff Tweek outside of the back room. Stan could only see half of Tweek's face, and only hear certain words that he was muttering (though Stan thought he heard Tweek say "Kyle"). It seemed almost like Tweek was trying to cover his face. Any notions of that, however, subsided when Tweek saw Craig and finally seemed to calm down. Tweek and Marjorine walked to the table together, and Marjorine left to lock the doors before returning.

Stan could see now why Tweek wanted to hide his face - he had a small tube sticking out of his nose and disappearing behind his neck. It was filled with a tan-colored substance, what Stan could only guess to be some kind of food drip. His suspicions were confirmed when Tweek spoke.

"S-s-sorry for running away earlier," he said, hand coming up again to try and hide his tube before it was batted away by Craig's hand. "I just - I have the permanent tube now and, well, I don't like for people to see it." Stan figured that that was fair, but the excuse didn't seem that legit.

"Somebody doesn't chew," Kenny quipped. The words were harsh, but Kenny still had a friendly aura. For the first time since he'd known him, Stan saw Tweek crack the tiniest smile and bat at Kenny. Craig didn't seem too humored, though.

"Yeah, like he's the only one," Craig replied, voice just short of a snarl. Kenny continued to smile and gave a shrug, and Stan found himself once again on the outside of some bubble. He felt like everyone in this town was in on some secret that he couldn't get close to.

The conversation continued - about Tweek's disorder and Marjorine's transition and Craig's useless degree and Kenny's parents - but Stan couldn't get himself into it. All he could do was sit and try to weasel into this secret society of people who wouldn't talk about his best friend.

Stan couldn't help but be relieved when the conversation began to wind down and Marjorine indicated that she should open the shop back up for the evening rush. Stan and Wendy left amicably, though Wendy could tell that Stan was upset. As they got in the car, she confronted him.

"Stan, what's wrong?" she asked, fastening her seatbelt. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It is, but it's..." he replied, but couldn't find his words.

"It's Kyle, isn't it?" Wendy finished for him. It was in moments like this that Stan remembered why he fell in love with her. "Don't worry, Stan. Kenny said Kyle will be in tomorrow, and I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." Stan wasn't so sure, but he kissed Wendy's cheek and thanked her anyway.

When they returned home, Wendy went right up to the bathroom to start getting ready. Stan made a pitstop in the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for a soda. His mother was finishing up some dishes at the sink. If Stan could see the smirk she was giving the plate in her hands, he wouldn't have even asked his next question.

"If Kyle's family moved, where would he come back to when he gets in town tomorrow?"

"I have a new address for him," Sharon replied. "It's in the new residential block of South Park. Let me finish up these dishes and I'll get it for you." And she did, scrawling the address on a Post-It and giving it to Stan. He thanked her, and then headed up to bed himself, clutching the paper.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another 2 months, another cliffhanger. Sorry about the wait, ya'll.**

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Stan wasn't sure how he ended up wandering around South Park on foot all day, but he'd have bet that it had something to do with everyone in town seeming to be in on some secret that he could only dream of knowing. Or maybe it was just that the only person he'd had any real interest in seeing that day was due to arrive in town this morning, and Stan couldn't reconcile his excitement with his anxiety. Whichever the case, it wasn't until he'd walked the town top to bottom and considered stopping into three separate bars that he ended up on the porch of the house at the address his mother gave him, heart hammering in his chest.

He took a few moments to look the house up and down - it seemed relatively new, and it was a little bit larger than the older houses in residential South Park. It sat inside a little cul-de-sac neighbourhood of similar structures, something Stan assumed they'd added to the town to try and boost property values. It was a nice little house. The flower beds in front were well taken care of, the windows had sweet lace curtains in them, and the paint was fresh and nicely maintained. The garage was closed, but there was a minivan in the driveway - a kind of ugly one, in Stan's opinion. It was a hybrid, though, which meant that it was probably Kyle's. Function over fashion - Stan took momentary comfort in the notion that some things really did never change.

That momentary comfort dissipated the moment Stan stepped up on the stairs of the porch. He stood there for several seconds, maybe even a full minute, listening to his heart pounding in his ears and honing in on the nervous shudders running up and down his arms, before he finally pressed the doorbell. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he heard shuffling and sweet voices come from inside, but for some reason, when the door opened, Stan's entire memorized apology evaporated.

"Stan...? Stanley Marsh?"

Yeah, that oughta do it.

In the doorway stood Kyle Broflovski, an amalgamation of experiences that Stan could only hopelessly try to piece together from his appearance. He looked beautiful, to say the least - a large and prominent nose shaped the skin on his freckled face, and soft green eyes with what seemed like eons of stories inside them looked on from behind almond-shaped lids. His hair was tied up into two large and frizzy buns on the top of his head. A cutoff shirt showcased a tiny swatch of the soft skin of a stomach, and pair of loose sweatpants hung off of wide hips.

Also, he was holding a baby.

Then, suddenly, he was gone.

Before Stan could even register the combination of shock and relief, Kyle backed up and closed the front door right in his face. Stan hardly had time to read the subtly panicked expression on Kyle's face before it was out of sight and Stan was alone on the porch. He stood there for a brief length of time, listening to hurried shuffling inside the house and growing more and more upset as the seconds ticked by. He was just beginning to turn around and start the route back to his mother's house when he heard the door open behind him again.

"Sorry, I just... wasn't expecting you to be here," said Kyle's voice from behind Stan's back. "Would you - would you like to come in?"

Stan turned back around to see Kyle for the second time as though he were a stranger. He'd taken his hair down, and it kinked into tight ringlets around his face. He had also pulled a sweater over his head to cover up what the cropped shirt he was wearing showed off and it looked like he'd... filled in his eyebrows? Stan was a little put off by the whole transformation, but more than that he was aware that he only had this chance to make a second first impression.

"Yeah, I'd love to," he replied dumbly. Kyle motioned for him to step inside, and Stan followed.

The inside of the house was just as quaint as the outside, with doilies on end tables and a lush carpet. It had the underlying scent of a well-loved pet and hazelnut coffee, and Stan could hear soft voices coming from the kitchen. Altogether, it looked like a home - though Stan did take note of a surprising lack of pictures, and the unfaded spaces where he could assume pictures were until very recently. Stan could have gone on taking in the subtle hominess of the house forever - but, as suddenly as he'd walked in the door, Kyle was on his tiptoes and pulling Stan in for a hug.

Stan, of course, hugged him back, and Kyle sighed softly against him.

"You still give the same hugs, I see," Kyle then said, and pulled away from Stan so he could stand flat-footed. "Sorry if that was forward, but... I've missed you, Stan, and you've missed so much, and -"

"You really don't have to apologize," Stan interjected before Kyle gave a speech. "I don't mind. And it should be me apologizing anyway." Kyle just smiled softly and shook his head.

"I don't want you to apologize. You went out and saw the world and I would imagine you're doing well for yourself - you look like you are," Kyle replied. "I'll admit I was... upset, for a considerable amount of time, but that part of me has forgiven you and I've forgiven it." Stan just blinked a few times, surprised that Kyle was being so open about this. Kyle had always been open with him, but he was never so... expressive. After he processed it, there was nothing Stan could do but nod in understanding. There was a brief awkward silence before Stan spoke again.

"So... you have a kid?"

Kyle's face absolutely lit up.

"Oh my god, my kids," he said, sliding a hand down Stan's arm to take his hand and lead him toward the kitchen. "You have to meet my kids, Stan, they're amazing."

Stan followed Kyle through the front room to the kitchen, stopping and standing next to him in the doorway. In the kitchen at the table were two children - the younger baby Kyle had been holding when he answered the door and another slightly older girl. The older one looked almost identical to Kyle - she had the same defined face and lanky body, and though her hair was brown, it held the same curly shape as Kyle's. The baby was another story - she looked nothing like Kyle or her sister at all. Stan cocked an eyebrow and looked back at Kyle, who was leaning against the doorframe and spoke softly.

"The older one is Harriet, she's four and she's mine," he said, a small smile on his face. "The younger one is fourteen months and she's my husband's. Her name is Magdalena, but we call her Maggie. Come on, I'll introduce you." Stan could only follow Kyle into the kitchen in a trance, feeling almost nervous as the girls took notice of him. Harriet stood up out of her chair as Kyle reached and took Maggie from her coloring page at the table. When he came back towards stan, Harriet clung to his leg.

"Girls," Kyle began, "this is my old old friend from a long time ago. His name is Mr. Marsh and he's a very nice man." Harriet waved shyly from behind Kyle's leg, and the baby babbled from her place on Kyle's hip. Stan appreciated Kyle's performative introduction despite the baby's obvious inability to understand.

"It's... nice to meet you," Stan said stiffly to Harriet before turning to Kyle. "You really could've had them call me Stan. I don't mind." He was beginning to feel again as though he was retreating into his own separate social purgatory, almost unable to process this inconceivable future.

"I know you don't, but we try to teach them good manners just in case," Kyle replied. "Or, you know, I do. I think my husband is hell-bent on turning them both into little monsters." As he said this, his hand found Harriet's shoulder and he tickled her, laughing as she backed away giggling. The baby cooed, and suddenly Stan was back outside that bubble, looking at this perfect life that this perfect person had built without him. Almost all of him wanted to wallow there forever, but Kyle was looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, so... y-your husband," Stan remarked, trying to come back to reality. Kyle cocked his head.

"What about him?"

"You know... who is he? You don't have really any pictures around."

"Oh, well - the thing about that is -"

Then, all of a sudden, the front door swung open and a boisterous voice called out, "I'm home!" Harriet's face broke into a smile and she burst from the kitchen into the living room. Kyle looked slightly pale, but he still adjusted Maggie on his hip and motioned for Stan to follow him.

They walked together into the living room, the doorway revealing a large-statured man picking up Harriet and spinning her around. Kyle said something to him about having company, but Stan didn't quite hear it - he was too focused on the identity of the man that had spun around to face him.

It was Eric Cartman.


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey, ya'll. Sorry for the long wait, especially for this. I've got some good stuff coming up, I promise. Anyway, here's this.**

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It wasn't until Kyle patted Stan's cheek gently with his hand that his eyes refocused and he came back down to Earth, leaning against the doorway in the entryway to Kyle's living room. Kyle was looking at him with an amused expression, one eyebrow raised over the other one, and he laughed when Stan finally spoke.

"Cartman?!"

"For once, I've rendered him speechless," Eric quipped to Kyle as he held his daughter, twirling a finger around the curls in her hair. "For what it's worth, Stan, _you're_ the last person _I_ expected to see in my living room, too." There was a hostile tone in his voice, and his smile was through gritted teeth, but Stan hardly noticed. He was too busy shaking his head and running a hand through his hair trying to make sense of it all. So that was it - that was the big secret everyone was keeping, wasn't it? Now that he knew, he kind of regretted coming home at all.

"You don't need to act so hostile, you know," Kyle said, his voice cutting through the fog in Stan's brain. "I've forgiven him. I don't understand why you can't." Stan recognized the tone in Kyle's voice instantly.

"Oh really, you've forgiven him?" Eric shot back, and then he shook his head and set Harriet down on the ground. "You know what? I'm not doing this here." Kyle huffed in reply and then turned on a heel, Maggie still on his hip. He motioned for Harriet and Stan both to follow him.

"Stan, would you mind watching my kids for a second?" he asked, and Stan stuttered before following.

"Uh, sure -"

"Oh, so you're gonna leave him alone with our children?" Eric's voice cut through the doorway, and Kyle took a deep breath.

"Excuse me for just a second, Stan."

Then Stan was alone with the two girls, listening to Eric and Kyle argue all the way up the stairs. The conversation became harder and harder to hear as the pair moved to the other end of the house, but Stan heard the beginning of it - Kyle defending him, Eric attacking him, something about Kyle "forgetting about everything he went through" - and he wished he hadn't come at all.

Several minutes passed before Stan heard footsteps coming downstairs, and Kyle asking in a sweet voice if Eric could "just give him one more chance." He heard Eric rumble in agreement, and figuring the worst was over, peeked around the doorway just in time to watch Kyle raise a hand to Eric's face and plant a gentle kiss on his lips. His stomach flipped over and he whipped back around the corner, trying to force the bile back down into his throat. That was something he was going to have to get used to.

Kyle and Eric reappeared in the kitchen not long after, Kyle smiling as if nothing had happened and Eric feigning politeness. If he was anything like he'd been when they were kids, Stan had the feeling he was about to be put through the rigor - but instead, Eric just offered him a beer.

"We've got Bud Light and bitch beer," Eric said as he opened the fridge. Kyle rolled his eyes and spoke before Stan got the chance.

"It's Seagram's," he said, moving around Eric to start preparing for dinner. "I would have asked about staying for dinner first, but Eric moves a little fast, I guess." Hearing Kyle call Eric anything other than 'Cartman' rattled Stan a little, but he finally shook his head.

"No, I'm okay, actually - actually, I'm a recovering alcoholic."

"Yeah, aren't we all," Kyle quipped back, a strange smirk on his face. Stan raised an eyebrow at the comment, but Kyle wasn't looking at him and he wasn't about to ask. Instead he stood still, dumbly, until Eric finally told him he could sit down at the table.

So he sat, finding something to do in looking at his phone until Eric spoke again.

"So, Stan," he began, and Stan could tell he was trying very hard to be polite. "What is it that you do?"

"I'm actually still in school," Stan replied. "I'm finishing my Ph.D in business analytics this spring. Wendy and I are -"

"Wendy!" Kyle said suddenly, turning around with a genuine smile. "You two are still together?"

"Y-yeah," Stan continued. "We've been together since we left. We're working on opening a nonprofit in New York."

"Oh, what for?" Kyle asked, turning back to chopping carrots.

"We want to work on creating awareness for mentally ill youth in impoverished neighbourhoods." Stan had, admittedly, rehearsed that line a million times, and it sounded like it. No one made a comment, though - instead, Eric made a "snrrk" noise and came to sit at the table with him.

"Could have used some of that back here in the day, huh?" Eric quipped, and Stan raised his eyebrows.

"What for?" Stan's question was genuine, and that fact made Eric and Kyle give each other a look that Stan desperately wished he could understand.

"Let's not talk about that," Kyle replied, a strange tone in his voice. "Are you staying for dinner, Stan?" Stan was stunned for just a moment before he nodded.

"Uh... yeah, sure. Let me just let Wendy know."

And with that the kitchen became relatively silent - Kyle grabbed an extra carrot to chop, Eric pulled out his phone (and, from what Stan could see, began reading the Drudge Report), and the two girls having at their coloring books on the table. Once again, Stan was living on the edge of what he'd always dreamed of sharing with Kyle - and he was having a hard time forgiving himself for falling so out of touch for so long.

Dinner went off without any hitches - Eric ate two portions ravenously, and Kyle and the girls laughed at him when he dropped gravy on his shirt. They talked about how Harriet had just started preschool, how Eric was coming up for a promotion at the advertising company, and Kyle's clients at the beauty salon. Stan talked about his studies, about his trip through Europe, and about Wendy.

By the end of the evening, as he was saying goodbye and leaving, he felt sick.

So, he started walking - he walked all through the residential district of South Park, past his old house where he should have gone to sleep, past all the old houses he remembered, and into town. He eventually found himself outside a seedy bar on the other side of the tracks - and, against his better judgement, he went in.

An hour later he came out, stumbling over himself and feeling quite sorry for himself, so he walked some more. Remembering the way to Kenny's old house and being particularly inebriated, he followed it all the way to the truck that he remembered seeing at the auto shop in the driveway. He took another moment's comfort in the notion that some things never change, and then he knocked on the door.

"Whoa," Kenny quipped as he answered the door, "you look like hell. Have you been drinking?"

"What of it?" Stan replied, slurring his words.

"You saw Kyle tonight, didn't you?"

The words came as a surprise to Stan, but when he heard them, he started to tear up. Quickly he wiped his face on his sleeve and sighed, nodding (and suddenly remembering why he didn't drink anymore).

"Alright, alright," Kenny said, putting out a hand. "Come on, let's get you in bed. You can stay here tonight." Stan noticed a particular bruise in the crook of Kenny's arm that he thought to ask about, but never actually got around to.

He followed Kenny inside, still sniffling, and let the taller man get him out of his shoes and into a bed.

"You want me to climb in there with you?" Kenny joked as he laid Stan down, but the look Stan gave him in reply was strangely serious. "Oh, you do, huh? Alright, scoot over."

"Thanks," Stan replied as Kenny crawled into bed with him, and Kenny shook his head. Drunkenly, and fully aware he was not in his right mind, Stan wrapped his arms around Kenny's middle and, for a brief moment as he drifted off into a nauseous sleep, pretended the body next to him was someone else.


End file.
